● Freshman Year, July – Ayase Saki

The “Roppongi Art Festa,” set to open in mid-August, was a long-term event scheduled to run for about two months. With less than a month remaining until the launch, Ruka-san’s work had entered its frantic final stages. Her days were increasingly consumed by promotional activities—attending press conferences, courting media outlets to publicize the event, and arranging the production of a teaser trailer.

And, of course, with Ruka-san being so busy, it meant that I, her secretary, was also completely swamped.

Scheduling, in particular, had become a nightmare. The artists participating in the festa, including those flying in from overseas, were already pushing up against the deadline. Yet, they would constantly try to squeeze in last-minute adjustments, wanting to tweak one part or refine another. Ruka-san, being the type who refuses to compromise on quality, would somehow try to accommodate all the extra work these artists kept piling on. Not that the deadline ever got extended, of course.

And yet, this is where something strange would happen. Somehow, everything was always finished by the due date.

As I managed the work processes, I could see the finely chopped steps being completed one after another, perfectly on time, without ever spilling over. But considering the sheer volume of work that kept being added, it should have been an impossible workload to finish.

The mystery was finally solved on a day in late July.

With the deadline looming, I took advantage of a day off from my university classes and came into work early in the morning. It was a little before 9 a.m., and the office was deserted. For a moment, I even checked the date on my phone, wondering if it was a holiday.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, stepping into the quiet room.

As I started toward my desk, I heard a low groan. It came from the floor. Then, a rustling sound, as if something was squirming.

I think my face went pale. My heart hammered against my ribs as I frantically scanned the room, my senses on high alert. Could it be a burglar?

The sound originated from the direction of Ruka-san’s desk. I cautiously rounded the desk island and peeked toward the source of the noise, only to find a giant, blue bagworm.

“Huh?”

A large, human-sized blue bagworm was wriggling, crawling out from under the desk. Just as I heard the zip of a fastener, my brain finally processed that this wasn’t an insect—it was a sleeping bag. And slithering out of the vivid, lapis-lazuli-colored sleeping bag, as if emerging from a cocoon, was…

“Whoa, it’s already hot for the morning.”

“R-Ruka-san…?”

Ruka-san, scratching at her messy hair, sat up and turned her half-risen body toward me. She stared at me blankly, her eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Hmmmm? I’m seein’ a ghost of Saki-chan. Whoops, crap. So the hallucinations have finally come to get me. Guess I’m at my limit, huhnya.”

Huhnya?

…Eh? Is this person really Ruka-san?

Casting off the sleeping bag like the husk of a chrysalis, a dazed expression on her face, Ruka-san finally stood. There she was in a tracksuit and no makeup, a sight she probably wouldn’t want anyone but her closest confidants to see, looking right at me.

“U-um. I’m not a ghost. Also, I sent you a message saying my classes were canceled today so I’d be coming in now, but…”

With that same blank look, Ruka-san tilted her head. “For real?”

“For real.”

After checking her phone and seeming to finally grasp the situation with an, “Ah, you’re right. My bad, my bad,” Ruka-san simply said, “Alright then, just keep working on yesterday’s stuff.”

“Um… did you, by any chance, stay here overnight yesterday, Ruka-san?”

“Yeah. Had one project I really wanted to finish up,” she said casually. “Well, I managed to get it done, but I missed the last train. Oh, and I wrote down the progress on the schedule, so check it.”

“O-okay. Huh. Huh? You finished… it. Understood, I’ll check it.” I was left speechless by how nonchalantly she said it.

“Gonna go take a quick shower. I’ll grab somethin’ to eat while I’m out, you want anything?”

“Ah, yes. No, I already ate, so I’m fine for now… A shower?” Did this company even have a facility like that?

“There’s one at the net cafe near the station. It’s convenient. Places like health spas are expensive and take time, y’know,” she explained. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

With that, Ruka-san slung a sports bag over her shoulder and left. Could it be that sports bag has an overnight kit in it?

And just as she’d declared, Ruka-san returned in about thirty minutes, looking as sharp and put-together as ever. Her makeup was done, her clothes were changed, and the completely invincible Ruka-san was standing there.

“I’m back.”

“W-welcome back. Um… do you, by any chance, do this all the time?” I asked timidly.

Ruka-san’s face broke into a wide grin. “C’mon, Saki. Of course not.”

“Right… of course. Your body wouldn’t last if you lived like this.”

My relief was short-lived.

“I’m proper about it,” she declared proudly. “I take a shower at least twice a day to stay clean, and no matter how crazy the deadline is, I go home and sleep in my own bed at least once every three days!”

“Thr—!” That’s not being proper about it at all.

So that was it. That was why the impossibly crammed schedule was clearing up at such a miraculous speed.

“Your clothes… what do you do about them?”

“The world has these things called coin laundries, y’know. And if I run out, I can just buy more.”

Is it really okay to use clothing stores as your personal closet?

“W-what about for meetings…?”

“For those, I at least make sure not to stay overnight the day before. See? I’m proper about it, right?”

Hmm.

Just then, Wada-san came into the office. It was 9:30.

“Good morning, President. Oh, Ayase-san, you’re in early today.”

“Ah, yes.” Even though Wada-san is the most senior employee, he still greets a newcomer like me politely. Then, as he was about to head to his desk as usual, he caught sight of Ruka-san, who was spreading out a convenience store breakfast and having a munching session. Probably because she’d been talking to me, she hadn’t finished eating yet.

“Oh, having breakfast here today?” I couldn’t help but react to Wada-san’s words.

“I’m surprised you can eat so much right after waking up.” A large bowl of katsudon from the convenience store first thing in the morning was an amazing feat.

“Just woke up…?”

At the same time Wada-san stopped in his tracks, an expression that clearly said “crap” appeared on Ruka-san’s face. She stealthily tried to use her foot to push the still-unfolded sleeping bag further under her desk, but Wada-san had already spotted it. I mean, I could see it too, so it was a futile struggle.

“President… I told you, didn’t I? To pass more work on to me.”

“Ah… Yeah. But, Wada-san, you’re busy too, and…”

“I let my guard down because you said you were leaving the schedule to Ayase-san… but Ruka-san, you’re the president now, you know?”

“I-I know. I know that, so…”

“It’s the Reiwa era now. You need to stop living like some corporate warrior who fights 24/7—”

It was, naturally, the first time I’d seen Ruka-san getting lectured with teary eyes. The thought that Wada-san might not have noticed if I hadn’t reacted made me feel a little guilty. I averted my eyes and focused on my own work as the other employees started showing up one by one.

The last one to enter was the young man with pink hair who sits diagonally across from me.

“Tatsumi-san, um…” During the lunch break, I decided to ask Tatsumi-san, who was relatively close to my age.

“What’s up?”

“Um, does this company have flextime?”

When I asked, he simply returned a “why?” I’m the one asking here. By the way, “flex” is short for flextime, a system where employees can decide their working hours with a certain degree of freedom.

“Well… everyone comes to work at pretty different times.” I thought a company was a place where you show up at a set time and leave at a set time. Of course, they might have adopted a flextime system, but even so, I didn’t think arrival times would be this much of a free-for-all. I just hadn’t noticed before because I’d only ever been able to come in late in the afternoon.

“Depending on the project, we don’t have a problem if you’re not in the office for even a single minute.”

“Eh, Is that… so.”

“It’s an annual salary system, not a monthly one. So, that’s just how it is.”

An annual salary system… A pay structure where the amount of salary paid over a year is decided at the time of the contract. So that’s how it was. I myself am on a monthly salary, same as my bookstore job.

“The actual payment is monthly, though. It’s more like your compensation for the year is already decided. No matter how hard you work, your terms won’t improve during that period, but in return, no matter how much you slack off, your compensation is guaranteed for a year. Well, at this company there’s an annual salary assessment every year, so if you don’t produce results within the year…”

“If you don’t?”

Tatsumi-san slowly lowered the hand he’d been waving around.

Gulp. I couldn’t help but swallow.

“Whether your salary goes up or down depends on whether you produce results. To put it bluntly, as long as you don’t have meetings or anything, nobody will say a thing even if you never show up to the office.”

“I… see. Thank you,” I managed, nodding along. And with that, I once again got a sense of the consistent philosophy of Lucca Design. Studio.

When you’re at school, most of your schedule is decided by others—so naturally that you don’t even realize it’s being done for you. Classes, clubs, regular exams, all of it. But here, no one decides your schedule for you. In a way, you can slack off as much as you want, and no one will scold you for it. The reason Wada-san scolded Ruka-san wasn’t because she was slacking off, but because she was cramming in too much work; in fact, it was more like he was telling her not to work so much.

Right after I started my internship, Ruka-san told me to get by on two hours a day. I had thought it was easier, time-wise, than my bookstore job, but… was it really? Here, no one else decides the schedule or quality of the work that needs to be done. The one who decides that is you yourself, and the evaluation is decided by the client. And then you earn the right to receive compensation according to that evaluation. I felt like that principle was thoroughly enforced at Ruka-san’s company.

I bit into the sandwich I’d bought from the convenience store, mulling things over as I sipped the coffee I’d made with the company coffee machine. My past three months here… Fortunately, I haven’t made any major mistakes so far, but…

No, wait. An alarm went off in my head. This is dangerous. If I’m finding it easy while everyone around me is struggling this much, could it be that I’m just being treated leniently because I’m an intern?

Just recently, Ruka-san had praised me for how I use my personal Instagram. She’d picked out a few photos and asked what I was thinking when I took them. I tried to explain what I wanted to emphasize and what measures I took to do so. I think it’s thanks to having done the same thing with Yuuta once that I didn’t struggle to put it into words. If Ruka-san had suddenly asked me that, I might have been too nervous to say anything. Once you’ve experienced something, your body remembers it—or rather, it’s more about getting used to it than learning it. It’s like a circuit was formed in my body, and my mouth moved naturally. That’s it. It’s like the difference between before and after being able to ride a bike. Clearing that first time is the hard part, but since I’d already accomplished that with Yuuta, I was able to speak as smoothly as flowing water.

Apparently, that left a good impression on Ruka-san. I was asked for my opinion on the management of the promotional SNS for the art festa, and I ended up participating in meetings to create draft catchphrases. She told me, “Saki, you think about it too,” so I made a few and brought them in. It was tough, since I’d never thought of a catchphrase in my life. I remember reading up on copywriting books. It was interesting, and attending the brainstorming meetings gave me the opportunity to be exposed to a ton of other people’s ideas. As expected, none of the catchphrases I came up with were adopted, but I could accept that when I compared them to everyone else’s. Our starting points were just different from the get-go.

At the time, I was just vaguely content with it, thinking what a learning experience it was. At the time.

My heart gave a great thump.

Could it be… Does this mean I failed to produce results? Wait, wait, wait. Was it really okay to leave it at “it was a learning experience,” Saki? Did I just participate in that draft meeting as a mere placeholder? Didn’t I just assume it was natural that my catchphrase wouldn’t be chosen? At that time, did I really think with all my might, intending to get my own catchphrase adopted?

“As for me, I don’t rate your design abilities at this point. I’ve never even seen your work.”

That’s right. Ruka-san definitely said that. And that draft competition was the perfect opportunity to show my work to her.

The more I thought about it, the more breathless I became. How many are there? How many more chances will I have to show Ruka-san my work before this internship ends? Saki, haven’t you been letting your guard down too much?

At Lucca Design. Studio, no one decides my schedule. No one decides the required quality of my work. If I decide this is good enough, then that’s what it becomes.

──Scary.

The fruit sandwich that should have been sweet had completely lost its taste. Only the bitterness of the coffee remained on my tongue. When I lifted my head, my eyes met the faces of the other employees returning to their desks. This corner of the office, where desks are pushed together to form islands, is a workplace that never lacks for laughter. Everyone is kind and gentle, and they treat me, the youngest one here, with courtesy. If I ask, they’ll teach me all sorts of things.

But I should have learned from my blunder at that members-only horse meat restaurant. The abilities of the person in front of you aren’t always what they seem. The people here are the ones who have continued to remain even after being assessed by the president, Ruka-san.

Slap.

With a loud sound, I struck both my cheeks with my hands. I’m not very interested in beating someone else. However, I hate to lose. It was just as Ruka-san had seen right through me. I’m a sore loser to the core.

My first summer of university is flying by, consumed by my classes and internship. I feel a sense of fulfillment, but as if in inverse proportion, the time I get to spend with Yuuta has been whittled down. That’s why I was so happy when, during dinner one evening, Yuuta took the initiative to talk about what’s been happening at driving school.

I don’t have a license. I’ve never been to a driving school, and I have no interest in driving a car myself. So, in the past, even if he brought up the topic, I probably would have only been able to enjoy watching his happy face as he talked. But now, things are a little different.

When Yuuta told me about his on-road driving lessons, I listened while imagining as if I were there myself. I tried to share his perspective. What does he see in his field of vision? How does he feel? Listening to him talk while pondering those things was more fun than I’d expected. When I told him so, Yuuta said, “That’s kind of like reading a novel and putting yourself in the shoes of the characters.”

I’m not as familiar with novels as Yuuta is. When I read, rather than experiencing it as if it were happening to me, I read as if I’m observing the events from the outside (a realization I only came to recently). It seems that if I can acquire the skill of listening to others’ stories as if they were my own, I might also be able to learn a new way to enjoy reading.

Of course, Yuuta and I are different people, so it’s difficult to completely share his field of vision. Above all, he himself, the one telling the story, can’t necessarily describe what he sees accurately. It was when he was talking about the difficulty of turning right at a four-way intersection that this became clear.

When Yuuta casually mentioned, “You put out the right turn signal,” I tilted my head at the phrase “put out.” I imagined something popping out of the car. Ah, of course I vaguely knew the word “turn signal,” so I ended up asking, “A turn signal is that blinking thing on a car, right?”

He must have sensed that I was stuck. Yuuta paused his story and explained turn signals to me. He was polite, starting from the very basics, like how there’s a turn signal lever on the right side of the steering wheel. He gave me a quick rundown of trivia and even acted out the hand movements on the dining table. “I see, I see,” I said, nodding as I listened.

“But isn’t it confusing that pushing the lever up is for left, and down is for right?” I asked.

“Ah. Right, it might not click if you’re not actually sitting in the driver’s seat. When you turn left, you turn the steering wheel counter-clockwise, but…” He mimicked the steering wheel operation as he spoke. I also pretended I was holding a steering wheel and spun it around. “When you turn the steering wheel to the left, if your hand hits the turn signal lever, the lever naturally goes up, right?”

Spin, spin, spin. I imagined it while moving my hands. The imaginary steering wheel turned left in my mind’s eye. When my right hand hit the lever, it naturally moved up. When I turned the steering wheel to the right, my hand hit the lever and it went down.

“Whoa! I see, I get it now. So that’s why!”

“Exactly. Well, this explanation is just something I’m parroting from my instructor,” he admitted. “Anyway, next time, there’s a lesson where we’ll actually drive on the expressway. When you merge into the express lane, you have to… go from the acceleration lane on the left, shift to the right, and then cut in with a ‘hyaah!’”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm.”

“I’ve done it so many times on the simulator, but I’m terrible at it. I just can’t bring myself to step on the accelerator…”

“Yeah. I thought it sounded tough just imagining it.”

“Still, I’m managing everything else besides merging. I wonder if I’m making some progress,” he said, a smile breaking across his face. He must have been really happy. His expression was so uplifting that it made my own heart feel buoyant just looking at him.

Feeling Yuuta working hard and learning new things every day filled me with joy. I could feel that it wasn’t just me; Yuuta was also steadily growing, even if it was in a place I couldn’t see. Though it also makes me sad that I can’t be there to share the scenery he’s seeing. I suppose this period, in these days where we keep missing each other, is a time when we’re both growing in our own separate places.

Still, sometimes I want us to have the same experience together. Now that we go to different schools and our workplaces have changed, I want something we can work on together. Cooking is, well… something we do together, but that’s not what I mean. For me, cooking is just part of my daily life.

I was feeling a little down, wondering if I was being greedy, but my modest wish was fulfilled in an unexpected way. It was the night two days after I’d heard about his driving school. There was a knock on my door, and when I opened it, Yuuta was standing there. My heart skipped a beat for a moment, but I calmed down when I heard step-father Taichi-san call out from down the hall, “I’m gonna take a bath first!”

Right. Step-father-san is here, so there’s no way something that heart-pounding would start.

“Saki, are you free this coming Saturday?”

My heart started pounding again at his question. Of course I’m free. Even with the Art Festa coming up, Ruka-san isn’t happy about me coming in on my days off. Ah, but there are a few projects whose progress I’m worried about. I remembered I was planning to negotiate to see if I could come in on either Saturday or Sunday.

“If you have plans, of course I won’t force you, so please don’t hesitate to—”

“I’ll go!” I’d said it reflexively. Yuuta only invited me for Saturday, so if push comes to shove, I should be able to ask to come into work on Sunday. “I’ll definitely, absolutely go!”

“Ah, ahh. Well, yeah, I’d be happy if you did.”

“So, where are we going?”

“Shakujii Park.”

A park…? I mean, I’m fine with a park date, of course, but as I was wondering, Yuuta told me that his best friend, Maru-kun, had invited him to play in a sandlot baseball game.

“Eh, what’s that? Sounds interesting.”

“Interesting… I don’t know about that. I guess it’s all about the experience. Since he went out of his way to invite me, I thought I might as well give it a try,” he said with a bashful look.

“But, Yuuta, do you know how to play baseball?”

“Nah, not at all,” he said bluntly.

“But you’re playing in a game, right? Eh, just like that?”

“Yeah. Well, I thought he was asking for the impossible too, but it’s sandlot baseball, and when he told me they might not be able to have the game because they can’t gather enough members…”

“So you get to be in the game. Eh, I wanna go watch too!” I said, a little forcefully. I mean, this is a chance, isn’t it? It’s a little different from doing something together as a couple, but we get to be together for a long time after so long, and besides… “If the invitation is from Maru-kun, that means Maaya is coming too, right?”

“Ah… I didn’t ask. But… probably? Yeah, well, I’ll ask her later.”

It was a vague answer, but I was sure Maaya would be there. Maaya would definitely want to see Maru-kun, the former baseball club captain, playing baseball again. My prediction was spot on. After getting the details from Yuuta, I sent a message to Maaya, and she replied saying she was just about to invite me. See?

So, that’s how on Saturday of that week, I headed to the baseball field at Shakujii Park with Yuuta. My camera perfectly captured his heroic figure there. He said it was his first sandlot baseball game, but I think he did his best. In the field, he properly chased after the ball that went over his head, and at bat, the distance between the ball and the bat was gradually shrinking! More than anything, seeing Yuuta’s serious expression when he swung the bat made my heart pound as if I were standing inside that white-lined diamond myself, swinging the bat along with him.

I won’t and can’t just post it on Instagram without permission. I wanted to preserve a tangible record of a precious shared memory between me and Yuuta.

As I was concentrating on my phone, peering into it to capture a shot of Yuuta at a better angle, Maaya, who was sitting on the bench next to me, let out a small laugh.

“A boy chasing a white ball really makes a picture, doesn’t it? Don’t you think so too, Saki?”

“Ah, u…m, yeah.”

“And what’s more, they’re the editor team for Raimei, so my heart is pounding three times as hard!”

“Um… Right, I guess?” The “Raimei” Maaya mentioned is apparently the title of a manga. I never really understood the details, but to Maaya, the person leading the sandlot baseball team seems to be someone very amazing.

After the game, the four of us went to a fast-food place in front of the station for a celebration. For just that moment, it felt like we had gone back to our high school days. Thinking back calmly, the four of us had never gone into a shop together back then, so it was a memory that didn’t exist. But now, it feels like we’ve all been friends for a very, very long time.

It was the afternoon of a summer day when I was eighteen. Me, Yuuta, Maaya, and Maru-kun.

We talked endlessly while eating shakes, hamburgers, and fries. Outside the shop’s glass window, the sky slowly dyed crimson, eventually changing to a light purple. The scenery of a summer day’s twilight. In another thirty minutes, it would be sunset. The clouds turned black as we watched, and as it quickly grew dark, a downpour of rain instantly stained the streets.

Thunder roared. I screamed and covered my ears, burying my face on the table. If everyone hadn’t been with me, I might have crawled under it. Yuuta whispered something as he put his arm around my back, moving closer. He told me by my ear that it was a passing shower and would be over soon. Feeling the warmth of his hand on my back, the fear I had felt eased just a little.

Just as Yuuta said, the torrential rain only lasted for about ten minutes. It stopped as quickly as it came, the black clouds disappeared, and the light purple sky returned.

“I didn’t bring an umbrella, so I’m glad it stopped,” Maaya said.

“Well then, shall we head home?” Maru-kun suggested, and we reluctantly got up and headed for the station. Even on the train headed for Shibuya, Maaya and I continued to chat in low voices. It wasn’t any particularly special talk, just idle chatter that served as a life update. But it was fun.

Looking at the approaching Shibuya cityscape, I found myself thinking. How many more times will the four of us be able to spend time together like this? We go to different universities. Our career paths after graduation will probably be different too. Yomiuri Shiori-san also quit her bookstore job upon graduating, even though she seemed to love books more than Yuuta.

Nothing lasts forever. In four years, we will once again make major choices, and depending on the results, we might never see each other again. Before that happens, how many more times can we be together…?

The train gliding into the platform opened its doors, spitting us out. Once we left the ticket gates, the sky was already completely dark, and the post-rain humidity covered the entire city. Enveloped in the steam-like heat rising from the asphalt, sweat immediately started to pour out. I wanted to go home and take a shower quickly.

“Well, see you again!” Maaya and Maru-kun, who were supposed to get off at different stations, disappeared somewhere together.

Yuuta and I returned to our apartment building. On the way, I found myself saying, “Let’s play catch,” even though I’ve never played baseball before.

“Then we’ll have to buy a glove for you too, Saki,” Yuuta said, and I nodded.

It’s okay. We’re not growing distant. Still, if I feel anxious, I should probably make more of an effort to be together. Summer break is starting, so I want to go somewhere together.

After returning home, taking a shower, and going back to my room, I fell backward onto my bed. My slightly damp hair spread out on the sheets. I had an idle thought about how I must look like a melted jellyfish from above. I stared blankly at the ceiling for a while, but then I picked up my phone, which had been charging by my pillow.

I swiped through the photos I took, looking at them. Most of them were of a hardworking Yuuta or commemorative shots including Maru-kun and Maaya, but among them were also some of just a glove, a bat, or a ball. I can’t just post pictures of Yuuta without his permission, but it should be fine to upload a picture of the equipment to Instagram as proof that I went to a sandlot baseball game. I smoothly tapped the app icon and made the post. After that, I lightly scrolled through my acquaintances’ posts. This had become my recent pre-sleep routine.

It’s a little fun to get a glimpse of my friends’ recent lives, like Kyouka trying out new nails, or Mayu eating something delicious as always. On a whim, I looked at Yuuta’s account. A blank, empty page with no posts. I’ve come to understand the person that is Asamura Yuuta quite well by now, so I can surmise that he’s just not interested in activities like taking pictures or reporting on his life. But just because I understand doesn’t mean I don’t hold out hope.

I wish there was a post. I’d be happy if he shared his memories too—my honest feelings are selfishly demanding such things. Of course, I won’t say it to him, and forcing him is out of the question. But it’s okay to just think it, right?

When I returned to my own timeline, a certain sadness washed over me. Compared to Yuuta’s empty page, mine was colorful and filled the entire screen, giving me the illusion that we were living in completely different worlds, that our two worlds were separated.

“Somehow… I don’t like this…” a monologue escaped my lips.

There are certainly times when we spend time together, like at the sandlot baseball game today. But there’s no tangible record of that certain fact, and in the digital world, his world and my world don’t intersect. If this phone were to break, our shared memories would become ambiguous, as if they never really existed, and someday they might disappear from my memory like a bubble. The record of me and Yuuta as a couple. I can’t just brazenly expose it on SNS, but… I wanted something that would remain even if this small device called a smartphone broke.

A week later, on the Saturday right after summer break began, I had the day off from both university and my internship. In the afternoon, I went out to a stationery store in Shibuya—or maybe it’s more of a general store, since they have various things besides stationery. This was the same store I had stopped by a long, long time ago, before we started living with the Asamura family, to buy a diary.

I had a hunch that the item to solve my gloomy feelings would be here.

Passing by a sample fair of letter paper, through a forest of pens, and past the diary corner that felt like my hometown, there it was. My target.

There were various designs, but I picked up one of them without hesitation. Yuuta and me. If it was something for the two of us, this was the only type of design… or so I thought.

When I got home around evening, the house was strangely festive. You could call it a celebratory mood. Mom was particularly excited, and Yuuta was scratching his cheek, looking embarrassed. Oh, right. I should probably mention here that Mom has finally taken a leave of absence from work. For Mom, a bartender for whom the concept of weekends is a distant notion (or rather, her busiest time), to be home on a Saturday evening means just that.

When I asked what was going on, apparently Yuuta had successfully gotten his license! Mom said she was told yesterday. So they decided to celebrate, and today she bought some slightly expensive meat for a yakiniku party. Mom and I made dinner. Since Yuuta was the one being celebrated, we had him relax, and we had step-father Taichi-san do the shopping, so he got a break from cooking.

Step-father Taichi-san, Mom, and of course, I all congratulated Yuuta. Step-father-san said he could drive his car anytime, and even offered to buy him any car he liked as a commemoration if he didn’t want a used one.

It was Yuuta who winced at his step-father’s words. “Dad, that’s spoiling me too much.”

I felt like that wasn’t something he should be saying himself, but to Yuuta, step-father Taichi-san’s words seemed excessively sweet. It’s scary what a lack of interest can do. Until I heard Yuuta start talking about the “demerits of owning a car in Tokyo,” I had no idea it cost so much money just to have a car.

For example, renting a monthly parking spot in Shibuya ward costs about 40,000 yen a month. That’s just to keep a car in a parking lot. On top of that, there’s car tax and insurance. Apparently, there’s a vehicle inspection every two years that costs money too. There are maintenance costs, and of course, gasoline. If you use the expressway, there are toll fees, and if the car gets dirty, there’s the cost of a car wash.

“It costs that much just for upkeep, so a new car is out of the question,” Yuuta said firmly.

“No, but a newer car would be…”

“I’ll think about it when I can earn my own money, but for the time being, it’s enough if you just let me borrow yours when you’re not using it, Dad.” Then, as if adding something on, he started to say quietly, “Besides, even if we rent a parking space at the apartment, maybe…” He cut himself off, so I didn’t know what he was going to say.

“Well, if you say so, Yuuta, I won’t say any more. But you can tell me anytime if you change your mind. Look, I could buy a new car, and you could have my current one as a hand-me-down.”

Then Mom, as if to smooth over the atmosphere, said, “It’s not something you have to decide in a hurry, is it?” with a quiet smile.

So, the matter of whether Yuuta would get his own car was settled with the decision to take their time.

That night, I waited for my parents to fall asleep, then visited Yuuta’s room, gently hiding what I’d bought today behind my back. Now that Yuuta had his license and things had calmed down, there was something I wanted to discuss with him.

“During summer break… you wanna go somewhere with the car, just the two of us?” I finally managed to say the words after much determination. A road trip, just the two of us. It was a plan I had been thinking about ever since Yuuta said he would get his license. Even while thinking it’s not possible, anxiety about what I would do if he turned me down crossed my mind.

Yuuta looked a little surprised, then smiled. “Sure, where do you want to go?” he asked, and before I could answer, his hand went up as if to stop me. “Wait. Before I listen, can I say something?”

“Eh? …Yeah, sure.”

I was perplexed. The Asamura Yuuta I knew was someone who would carefully listen to the opinions of others, think slowly, and then firmly state his thoughts. To put it nicely, he’s thoughtful. To put it badly, he’s reserved, even with his girlfriend. It’s not a bad thing—it’s far better than having him push his own opinions on me. But that’s precisely why it can be worrying. It makes me wonder if he’s not always holding back, putting what he wants to say on the back burner. I wish he’d prioritize what he wants to do sometimes. For me however, its different, I’m the type to say no if I don’t like something.

“Once I get my driver’s license,” Yuuta began, “there was a place I wanted to invite you to.”

I see. So there was something he wanted to do after all. I waited silently for him to say it.

He cleared his throat once before speaking. “I want to go to the sea.”

Ahh—

So that’s your wish.

The moment he said it, though it was of course an illusion, I felt the scent of the tide fill the air. I could almost see a long, stretching sandy beach and the summer sunlight sparkling on the crests of the waves.

Sounds good. I was nodding in immediate agreement. Because that’s what I was thinking too.

“Yeah. I’d like the sea too.”

Yuuta’s face seemed to relax slightly in relief. I thought he must have worked up the courage to take a step forward, and my chest grew warm. Now, it’s my turn to be brave.

I squeezed the hand holding that thing hidden behind my back and forced the voice out from my stomach. “And, so…”

“Yeah.” Yuuta took a listening posture, ready to simply receive my words, without interrupting or rushing me. The reason I can be so dependent on him. The thing I love about him. It’s because he’s this kind of Yuuta that I can even make a totally uncool, embarrassing proposal.

“I bought… an album.” I presented the thing I’d been hiding. It was an elegant, leather-bound photo album that looked like a book. A deep, chestnut-brown binding, engraved with a compass rose like a nautical chart. The moist texture of the leather enveloped my fingertips, and a leather cord was sewn into the spine, with knots reminiscent of a ship’s rigging, and a brass-colored ship’s wheel charm swaying at the end.

“Photos of the two of us, of our memories together. I can’t post them on Instagram, but… I wanted to record them somewhere.”

“In there, photos of the two of us?” He must have never imagined I would suggest such a thing. Yuuta’s eyes and mouth were wide open in utter surprise.

“Yeah. The photos we take on our phones, we’ll print them out and put them in together. Lots and lots of them. I was thinking, what if we could build up our memories until they fill a whole book…” Putting it into words is so embarrassing I feel like my face is on fire. I think to myself how sappy I’m being.

But, even so, just as he did, I thought I had to step on the accelerator too. So that I won’t have any regrets. If I can buy the next ten years of happiness just by being embarrassed, it’s a cheap price to pay.

“What do… you think?”

Yuuta cast his eyes down for a moment. The expression I saw on his face was hard to read; I couldn’t tell if he was happy, embarrassed, or confused. The only thing I knew for sure was that he wasn’t displeased.

“…Thank you.”

A moment later, the words that came from his mouth were words of gratitude.

Why?

It shouldn’t have been a proposal that warranted thanks. Only Yuuta knew the answer to that, and I had no intention of asking, so I just said, “Yeah,” accepting his reply. I don’t really know what feelings the proposal to make a joint album produced in him. Maybe, just now, something that was slightly misaligned between us was naturally adjusted without words.

“The first page will be a memory of the sea, Saki.”

“Yeah. But you know, Yuuta. For the very first picture—”

Let’s take it right here, right now.

I pulled Yuuta close. While we both held the single photo album, I held up my phone in selfie mode.

Of me, and Yuuta.

Of Yuuta, and me.

We recorded our first story (photo).